We tore open the muffler on the rough(ish)
road out of Mt Elizabeth so the car started making an awful sound. We drove on to
Drysdale Station, making everyone laugh and cover their ears as we drove past them. We stopped for lunch on the way in and chatted to a friendly
tanned and heavily tattoed guy who warned us to go slow on the rough road ahead, and to
make sure we have the Drysdale River burger for lunch rather than dinner (same
burger for very different prices!). He was very passionate about the burger advice and repeated it a couple of times before we assured him we would heed his warnings. We arrived at Drysdale River Station which has
a mechanic, petrol, a restaurant/bar and a small store and spoke to the
mechanic who advised us to live with the noise and wait until we reached
Kununnara - he assured us that although the noise is slightly embarrassing it is doing no further damage. We did however agree to buy a new (very expensive) tyre –
having blown one on the Gibb.
Bill valiantly tried to plug the hold but the tyre was pretty stuffed so we
decided a new one would be safer. Rather than staying in the campground in
town, we headed out to a place called Miners Pool – a peaceful spot with a
lovely waterhole for swimming. Waking up early in the morning in this area is truly magnificent as the
trees are brimmimg with birds between about 6-7.30am. Then to come back and
enjoy a scolding hot coffee in the relative cool of the morning – magic. We
drove into Drysdale to wash our filthy, filthy clothes, sample the famous
Kimberly burger (well Bill and Sash did while Z & K had veggie options), do
some shopping, and pick up our new tyre. Drysdale is a pretty friendly place
with lovely shady places to do school (Zara and Bill) and puzzle after puzzle
after puzzle (Sasha and Kate). We drove back for a swim (saw a freshie) and a
not so peaceful night (fellow campers decided to pump up the doof doof dance
music). Seriously running out of fresh food – ate our last carrot with relish.
Next morning we filled up again in
Drysdale, waved goodbye to Chris the friendly mechanic and headed towards the
Mitchell Plateau. We had been warned about the dreadful roads but we didn’t
think it was so bad – considering how corregated the road into Drysdale had
been (half the people at Drysdale were nursing broken axles and busted tyres).
We bumped into the Mitchell Falls campground in the late afternoon and set up
in a lovely shaded campground.
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